These are the days I miss you the most. Memorial Day, the first official day of summer, as far as I'm concerned. We never missed one, did we?
If you were still here, I'd be at your house this very minute. We'd pack up for the pool: tuna sandwiches, freakishly large tub of cheese balls, fruit, water bottles, towels, pool toys, etc. The kids would scurry around excitedly in various states of undress, while we attempted to slap sunscreen on their bright white, winter bodies. POOL day! Finally! This meant school was almost over and we'd visit with you practically every weekend for food, fun and family. They would plunge into the icy water and splash around joyfully as their lips turned blue. We would finish the day with a lazy cookout - laughing about the day - laughing just to laugh. If we still had energy, we'd play a board game or three before crashing throughout the house and dreaming of future family adventures
Summertime was OUR time. We'd plan a beach trip, no matter how depleted our bank accounts. And we'd MAKE it work, by golly. It was priority. Fourth of July, birthdays . . . we were together for it all.
I wonder what you'd have to say about my current situation. I know you would think it was odd, but I feel you'd be supportive, nevertheless. In fact, I would think, "how in the world could I make it through this without her?" And here I am. Making it. Slowly and painfully, but I'm making it.
But I still miss you. Especially on days like this.